"She wore men's clothes; she was in a hurry and trying to keep out of sight. I wondered whether Clinch might have sent her to warn this hold-up fellow." "That's rather a long shot, isn't it?" "Very long. I could go in and look about a bit, if you'll lead my horse." "All right. Take your bearings. This road runs west to Ghost Lake. We sleep at the Inn there--if you mean to cross the woods on foot." Stormont nodded, consulted his map and compass, pocketed both, unbuckled his spurs. When he was ready he gave his bridle to Lannis. "I'd just like to see what she's up to," he remarked. "All right. If you miss me come to the Inn," said Lannis, starting on with the led horse. * * * * * The forest was open amid a big stand of white pine and hemlock, and Stormont travelled easily and swiftly. He had struck a line by compass that must cross the direction taken by Eve Strayer when she left Clinch's. But it was a wild chance that he would ever run across her. And probably he never would have if the man that she was looking for had not fired a shot on the edge of that vast maze of stream, morass and dead timber called Owl Marsh. Far away in the open forest Stormont heard the shot and turned in that direction. But Eve already was very near when the young man who called himself Hal Smith fired at one of Harrod's deer--a three-prong buck on the edge of the dead water. * * * * * Smith had drawn and dressed the buck by the time the girl found him. He was cleaning up when she arrived, squatting by the water's edge when he heard her voice across the swale: "Smith! The State Troopers are looking for you!" He stood up, dried his hands on his breeches. The girl picked her way across the bog, jumping from one tussock to the next. When she told him what had happened he began to laugh. "Did you really stick up this man?" she asked incredulously. "I'm afraid I did, Eve," he replied, still laughing. The girl's entire expression altered. "So that's the sort you are," she said. "I thought you different. But you're all a rotten lot----" "Hold on," he interrupted, "what do you mean by that?" "I mean that the only men who ever come to Star Pond are crooks," she retorted bitterly. "I didn't believe you were. You look decent. But you're as crooked as the rest of them--and it seems as if I--I couldn't stand it--any longer----" "If you think me so rotten, why did you run all the way from Clinch's to warn me?" he asked curiously. "I didn't do it for _you_; I did it for my father. They'll jail him if they catch him hiding you. They've got it in for him. If they put him in prison he'll die. He couldn't stand it. I _know_. And that's why I came to find you and tell you to clear out----" The distant crack of a dry stick checked her. The next instant she picked up his rifle, seized his arm, and fairly dragged him into a spruce thicket.